


Lion's Teeth

by Feyland



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Blowjobs, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Other, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-08 01:49:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21227798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feyland/pseuds/Feyland
Summary: "It wasn’t just restlessness that has followed Fauntleroy home – Claquesous had somehow failed to spot the hunger."





	Lion's Teeth

Claquesous might have chalked Fauntleroy’s tense, restless energy to the cold, perhaps, had he not caught them observing him out of the corner of their eye. Bracing against the early winter wind, their flushed face tinged with something simmering just below the skin, they watch Claquesous like a wild cat, their teeth clenched, moving at a quick pace Claquesous is careful to match. He says nothing to them, though. Instead, he puts his head down, pretending he has not seen the way energy curls off of them like steam, their energy burning hot despite the surrounding cold.

Even when they reach Claquesous’s building, even when stairs have been climbed and the chill has started to leak from their bones, the coiled intensity in Fauntleroy’s frame does not die down with it. They tear off their jacket as they cross the threshold to the flat, tossing it aside as they turn the fullness of their attention on Claquesous, who moves more casually, locking the door behind him and peeling off his own coat in no great hurry, as though seeing how long he can draw out the string of Fauntleroy’s patience until it snaps.

It doesn’t take long. 

Claquesous is not surprised when Fauntleroy moves forward, grabbing on to the front of his shirt.

“Want something?” he says, low. He takes the barest step closer, waiting for Fauntleroy to make the move, to drag him further into the apartment, or to bring their mouth to his. Instead, they move with more force than expected, shoving Claquesous roughly as they back him up against the wall. He hits it hard, the air rushing out of his lungs, and feels for the first time what it must be like to find himself on the wrong side of their knife. When Fauntleroy smiles, he almost expects to feel the bite of steel accompany the leap of desire in his chest. One of Fauntleroy’s hands presses firmly against his shoulder, pinning him in place, and he tries not to jump as their fingers, still icy from outside, slid over his neck and up into his hair.

It wasn’t just restlessness that has followed Fauntleroy home – Claquesous had somehow failed to spot the hunger.

He drags in a breath as Fauntleroy presses into him, crowding him up against the wall, and nearly losing the air again when a knee presses in between his legs. Fauntleroy is quick to seal in the hitched breath, their mouth finding Claquesous’s, hard and hungry and demanding. They kiss him like they mean to devour him, and he gives in to them immediately. Surrender feels strangely natural, despite every learned tendency Claquesous has to avoid it. It’s right here, somehow, even if at the same time if feels like he is displaying his throat to a predator with no concept of mercy.

Teeth scrape at his lips, moving at a pace faster than Claquesous can track, taking more than he can offer up in time. The hand in his hair moves downward, pushing at his chest, his hip. It is only when the hand stops at his belt that the mouth ceases its attack too. Claquesous opens his eyes, staring into the amber of Fauntleroy’s. They burn like fire. He feels breathless again.

“Yes?” Fauntleroy asks, tugging on his belt, their voice husky and singed.

“Yes.” Claquesous manages, his heart under Fauntleroy’s hand betraying his anticipation.

While not clumsy, Fauntleroy’s hand is rough as it tears open the belt, their knee still grinding into Claquesous, making him choke back the building pressure.

Fauntleroy doesn’t bother teasing. They don’t need to – Claquesous knows they can feel the way his body is reacting to their touch. They make quick work of Claquesous’s zipper, shoving the fabric of his trousers aside, and pressing their hand down past the waistband of his underwear.

“_Faun_,” Claquesous says, the word coming out strangled as cool fingers snake around him, drawing him out.

Fauntleroy doesn’t respond, but leans in to nip at the skin of Claquesous’s neck. He shivers, and feels them smile. Lower, their hand is firm, but slow. For all their restless energy, it’s Claquesous whose patience breaks first.

“Faun, please,” he gasps, hating the desperation he hears in his own voice. Loving it too, when Fauntleroy’s hand tightens. They pause just long enough to give an extra press to the curve of Claquesous’s collarbone before they slip to their knees.

Claquesous muffles a groan as he leans back harder against the wall, Fauntleroy’s hands working over his tensing body. His breath feels too light, like it doesn’t quite reach his lungs before it’s sucked out again by Fauntleroy’s touch. Claquesous turns his eyes downward, taking in their curls, their skin, the eyes that still watch him, ravenous.

“Yes?” they say again, moving their head closer to him, tense as a runner waiting for the gun to go off.

“Fuck, Faun,” Claquesous groans, reaching out to run his fingers through their hair.

“_Yes?_” they hiss, unbothered, their teeth shinning as brightly as their eyes.

“Yes!” Claquesous’s voice breaks as Fauntleroy’s mouth closed around him. He feels his hips pushed back, held steady by Fauntleroy’s surprisingly strong grip. Their mouth is hot, and just as aggressive as their eyes, as their hands. A part of Claquesous wants to worry for their comfort, but the thoughts are ripped from him as Fauntleroy moves their tongue over him and Claquesous blinks back stars.

With the quickness of a viper, they again reach a hand around him, moving it in tandem with the bob of their head, dragging stuttered breaths out of Claquesous. He tries his best to watch them, not wanting to miss a second of the sight of them, their lips dragging over flesh, their tongue flicking full-body shudders. The sounds coming from their throat are filthy. 

Claquesous tightens his grip on their hair, as though their curls could be the lifeline to save him from drowning in ecstasy. Instead, he can’t help but cry out when teeth scrape against him, a warning message instantly received. 

“Faun,” he says, forcing his hands away from them, raising them in surrender as their pace doesn’t slow. He breaks off into barely held tension, trying to force himself to last. Fauntleroy doesn’t relent – their mouth is growing less coordinated, more feral. It’s a game, and they are going to win. Claquesous hasn’t even learned the rules. “Faun, I can’t-.”

Fauntleroy doesn’t let him finish his plea, pulling back from him instead and rising to their feet again. Their hand is still around Claquesous, moving roughly over saliva-slick skin.

“Can’t what?” they say, their eyes shining, pushing more of their weight up against Claquesous’s body.

Claquesous can’t respond, can’t find the words that will make it out of his mouth. He leans forward instead, reaching for Fauntleroy’s lips with his own.

The smile they give him as they avoid the kiss is wicked, all teeth and venom. Claquesous makes a noise deep in his chest, clenching his raised hands into fists.

“_Please_,” he manages, feeling like every nerve in his body is resting in Fauntleroy’s hand, rough and reverent.

Fauntleroy leans in again, a hair away from Claquesous’s mouth, smiling, snarling, ready to eat him alive, and their hand moves, reaching to draw out Claquesous’s own feral soul.

When he vision goes sideways and what’s left of his breath locks in his chest, Fauntleroy’s does not stop their work. They stopper Claquesous’s shattered noise as they claim his mouth again, as though drinking the delirium from his cry. His legs feel disconnected, and the weight of Fauntleroy against him seems the only thing keeping him up, even as they stroke oversensitive shudders from him. He ducks his face into their shoulder, breathing in the scent of them. They let him wrap his arms around them and drag them closer. Their body against his feels like fire, and cool water both. Claquesous kisses their forehead; even his lips feel weak. Fauntleroy makes a noise, something like satisfaction humming through their chest and into Claquesous’s, restlessness falling away into the steadiness of a heartbeat. 

**Author's Note:**

> Talk Claquleroy to me, baby


End file.
